You have no feeling; you
have no temperament; you are quite the most stupid creature I was ever
engaged to.
have no temperament; you are quite the most stupid creature I was ever
engaged to.
Yeats
He numbered them over.
Howard, one or two less
intimate, and Mary Carton. At that name he paused; he would not write
just yet.
VII
One Saturday there was a tennis party. Miss Leland devoted herself all
day to a young Foreign Office clerk. She played tennis with him, talked
with him, drank lemonade with him, had neither thoughts nor words for
anyone else. John Sherman was quite happy. Tennis was always a bore,
and now he was not called upon to play. It had not struck him there was
occasion for jealousy.
As the guests were dispersing, his betrothed came to him. Her manner
seemed strange.
'Does anything ail you, Margaret? ' he asked, as they left the Square.
'Everything,' she answered, looking about her with ostentatious
secrecy. 'You are a most annoying person.
You have no feeling; you
have no temperament; you are quite the most stupid creature I was ever
engaged to. '
'What is wrong with you? ' he asked, in bewilderment.
'Don't you see,' she replied, with a broken voice, 'I flirted all day
with that young clerk? You should have nearly killed me with jealousy.
You do not love me a bit! There is no knowing what I might do! '
'Well, you know,' he said, 'it was not right of you. People might say,
"Look at John Sherman; how furious he must be! " To be sure, I wouldn't
be furious a bit; but then they'd go about saying I was. It would not
matter, of course; but you know it is not right of you. '
'It is no use pretending you have feeling. It is all that miserable
little town you come from, with its sleepy old shops and its sleepy
old society. I would give up loving you this minute,' she added, with
a caressing look, 'if you had not that beautiful bronzed face. I will
improve you. To-morrow evening you must come to the opera.
intimate, and Mary Carton. At that name he paused; he would not write
just yet.
VII
One Saturday there was a tennis party. Miss Leland devoted herself all
day to a young Foreign Office clerk. She played tennis with him, talked
with him, drank lemonade with him, had neither thoughts nor words for
anyone else. John Sherman was quite happy. Tennis was always a bore,
and now he was not called upon to play. It had not struck him there was
occasion for jealousy.
As the guests were dispersing, his betrothed came to him. Her manner
seemed strange.
'Does anything ail you, Margaret? ' he asked, as they left the Square.
'Everything,' she answered, looking about her with ostentatious
secrecy. 'You are a most annoying person.
You have no feeling; you
have no temperament; you are quite the most stupid creature I was ever
engaged to. '
'What is wrong with you? ' he asked, in bewilderment.
'Don't you see,' she replied, with a broken voice, 'I flirted all day
with that young clerk? You should have nearly killed me with jealousy.
You do not love me a bit! There is no knowing what I might do! '
'Well, you know,' he said, 'it was not right of you. People might say,
"Look at John Sherman; how furious he must be! " To be sure, I wouldn't
be furious a bit; but then they'd go about saying I was. It would not
matter, of course; but you know it is not right of you. '
'It is no use pretending you have feeling. It is all that miserable
little town you come from, with its sleepy old shops and its sleepy
old society. I would give up loving you this minute,' she added, with
a caressing look, 'if you had not that beautiful bronzed face. I will
improve you. To-morrow evening you must come to the opera.
